His spit is worth more than her work, pass the purse to the pugilists
He's a prizefighter, and he bought rings and he owns kin
And now he's swingin', and now he's the champion
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver
A spotless domain hides festering hopes she's certain there's more
Pictures of fields without fences...
A spotless domain hides festering hopes she's certain there's more
Pictures of fields without fences, her body numbs as he approaches the door
As he approaches the door
As he approaches the door
As he approaches the door
As he approaches
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver!
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Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers? - Revolver!
Revolver!
Revolver!
Revolver!
Revolver